grief
by AtLoLevad
Summary: Arya suffers a miscarriage


It's not unusual for Gendry to lose track of Arya's whereabouts. Neither one of them is entirely comfortable in Storm's End yet. It's been four years since they arrived - wide-eyes and entirely out of their element, but together. The castle seemed endlessly huge to them, full of secrets and spaces to explore. And while they had explored nearly all of the hidden secrets of Storm's End, Gendry is sure that Arya's managed to keep some of those places hidden for herself. He doesn't mind though, he'd like to hide from his responsibilities most days.

So, when Arya goes missing shortly after breakfast and is missing from the midday meal, Gendry isn't entirely concerned. He's curious, of course, but not worried.

He goes about his duties for the rest of the day, checks in on Durran in the nursery, and decides to turn in early. There's a mild storm raging outside, and the castle is getting chilly. Some of his old injuries are starting to ache and there's nothing he wants more than a good night's sleep. He still hasn't seen Arya, but it's really not unlike her to take off for a day or two without warning. It had taken some getting used to in the beginning, but Gendry didn't care. She was Arya and they were together. He didn't care to change her and she loved the freedom.

Having resigned himself to the idea that Arya was off on one of her short adventures, Gendry is entirely surprised to see her curled up on their bed.

"Arya?" he says her name as if he hasn't seen her in eight years and not eight hours.

She lifts her head from the pillow slightly and sees him. "Oh, hello," she murmurs, dropping her head back to the pillow. In that brief glimpse of her face, Gendry sees that her eyes are puffy and red, as if she's been crying. He approaches their bed quietly, surprisingly graceful when he needs to be, despite his height and bulk.

"Arya?" his tone is gentler this time, but still questioning. She doesn't move and he sits on the edge of the mattress, hesitantly reaching a hand out to rest on the side of her hip. She flinches away and Gendry withdraws his hand as if it had been burnt.

He tries hard not to be offended. Arya's obviously going through something, but her reaction to his touch is hurtful. He sighs and says, "Missed you today. Been here since breakfast?"

She nods lightly into the pillow, her grey eyes unfocused and staring off at a point beyond Gendry's shoulder. He notices that she's shaking lightly - trembling, really. He grabs the knitted blanket resting at the foot of the bed and drags it up over her prone form. One hand uncurls from its fist and grasps at the blanket, holding it close to her cheek. Gendry's brow furrows as he takes in the lost look on his wife's face.

He tries again. "Love, talk to me? Was there a raven?" he's imagining something horrible happening to one of her siblings, as that's the only thing he can think of to get this reaction from his usually unflappable wife.

"No," she mumbles, closing her eyes. "Please leave."

"I can't do that, Arya," Gendry replies firmly. "I'm thick, but I know leaving you alone isn't going to help anything. Whatever's the matter, we'll deal with it together, as partners."

After he had botched the first proposal, he realized that Arya wanted to be treated as his equal, which he already thought of her as - not that his first proposal had given that impression. He'd done better the second time, by emphasizing that he wanted a partner in learning how to be a Lord. Now, they approach everything as a team.

Even - especially - the hard things.

"Just leave, Gendry," Arya snaps, no real heat behind her words. "I don't want to see you."

Gendry's temper flares even as his heart drops to his stomach. This is it - the moment he's been expecting - she's finally going to decide that marrying him was a mistake, being a Lady isn't her, being a mother isn't her. She's going to leave him, like she did five years ago. His hands ball into fists where they rest on the covers and he grinds his teeth. "You can leave me. Arya, but leaving Durran motherless is a coward's move," he snaps back, a sour feeling building in his gut.

Gendry's anger sparks Arya's temper. She sits up - struggling as she does so - and gives him a glare so fierce, Gendry's temper is cooled a bit. Her disheveled look does nothing to lessen the icy fury in her tone. "I'm not leaving you or Durran, you great, idiotic ass! I made a vow and more than that, I love you and our son." Her voice cracks a little and tears well in her grey eyes. "It terrifies me how much I love you because loss is so much harder."

Tears spill over and roll down her cheeks. It's a sight that scares Gendry down to his bones - he can count on one hand the number of times he's seen Arya cry and none of those times were tears of joy.

"Loss?" Gendry's baffled now, his forehead creased in confusion. He shakes his head. "Arya, you're not losing anything."

"That's just it," she crumples into a boneless heap against the pillows. "I've already lost it. It's gone."

She curls in on herself and Gendry's lost on how to help her. He's barely competent with her new displays of emotion on a good day - tears and the despair that radiates off of her are beyond him. He scrubs a hand over his face, the sharp prickle of a few day's beard growth rejuvenating him a little. He climbs further onto the bed, kneeling close to her and gently resting a hand on the side of her head.

"Arya, what have you lost?" Desperation seeps into his tone and a healthy dose of fear. "Please, love, talk to me."

Arya looks at him with wild eyes - wild, sad eyes. "A babe," she says softly, so softly, "I lost a babe."

Gendry's shocked. Arya's pregnant? Was pregnant? He reaches for her hand and grips it tight, tighter still when she tries to snatch it away. She fights his touch, kicks angrily at his thigh, claws at his hand and wrist with sharp nails. But still he holds her. "Let go of me," she shrieks. "Let me go!"

"No," Gendry replies simply, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her in a crushing hug. She struggles against him, shouting about the lost babe, hot tears falling against his neck, until she stops shrieking and collapses against him, trembling. His arms are strong around her, keeping her safe and secure, even as both of them are grappling with the loss. "It will be okay," he mumbles into her hair, barely believing it himself. In the span of ten minutes he learned he was to be a father for the second time and then had that joy ripped from him. Arya's grief was his grief.

Arya's sobs quieted, but her hands were still fisted in the fabric of his formal tunic. "I didn't even want babes," she whispers into his broad chest. "I didn't. I swore I'd never be a mother. But Durran."

Her voice cracks on their son's name and Gendry knows. He knows that she hadn't wanted to simple become a vessel for birthing a Lord's babes. He knows that she had been terrified when she became pregnant with Durran, terrified throughout her labours, terrified until they handed her the swaddled babe. Then, Gendry had seen the change in his Arya. She'd told him once, just a few moons after Durran had been born, how absolutely terrifying it was to be his mother - not because she didn't want it, but because of how fiercely she loved the babe. How scared she was of her love for him. He'd grinned at her, sharing his fears of being an inadequate father since he didn't have any examples. And then they'd fallen into bed, exhausted and content.

So he knows, just how much she loves - loved - this babe that she never met, would never meet.

The Arya of five years ago would not have been this emotional, this attached. But his Arya, this Arya, learned to let her feelings back in, learned to be Arya Stark again, and it's breaking her heart right now.

"It's revenge," she sighs against him. "Revenge for all the lives I've taken."

Gendry snorts. "It's not. Durran's perfectly healthy. Arya, you're not your past, not anymore."

Arya's weight sags against him. He can tell she doesn't believe him - that's fine, he'll work until the end of his days to prove to her that she's allowed happiness. His hand strokes her hair and his mind races with questions about the babe and the loss, but he won't ask her now.

For now, he will hold her and share in her grief.

* * *

_A/N: with this fic, i've posted 10 gendrya fics in 20 days. i'm boggled, as i've never written them before and had only read a few fics. the response to my fics has been amazing and heartwarming and i'm so grateful! fic posting will probably slow down for the foreseeable future, since i'll be studying to take the bar exam, but i hope to post things here and there. feel free to send me prompts! i'm always happy to have those in my back pocket :)_

_long live gendrya!_


End file.
